Coagulate
by hotpielookedlikehotpie
Summary: vignettes of different hijacked visions
1. the reign of arrows underneath a tree

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters, story, or have any ownership of the Hunger Games

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**a/n:** this'll be updated at random. I wrote this one a couple months ago but I'm posting it now so I can keep it in the back of my head to write. vignettes of hijacked visions, no specific order to any of them. violence, sexual themes, and probably other trigger warners will apply, once I write more. I have a couple ideas but any suggestions to visions are welcomed.

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He sees the rain out of his window, pounding onto the ground with a strength that he thinks he can feel, even inside, even by the ovens. His mother's voice cracks like a whip but he pays it no mind, like he always tries to not, and goes back to the ovens to check on the bread.

Distantly, he is aware that this isn't real. That he's in the time of his childhood but as he looks at his hands, he sees that he's grown up. He's stuck somewhere on some plane between both times, but it doesn't matter. There's bread to bake. There's a mother to scream.

And she screams and yells out the door, into the rain. Words pick up in his ears, the word Seam coming forth the most._ Seam, Seam, Seam filth, Seam trash._

Peeta Mellark steps away from the ovens and looks past his mother to see a girl of dark hair and made of bones huddling underneath the nearby tree. She seems to flinch with every rain drop that hits her, and she looks on the brink of death.

Peeta Mellark is in love with this dying girl.

He turns back inside after his mother, trying to dart away from the girl's eyes looking into his, knowing it'd be too much. So he goes back to the ovens, to the warm, hot, dry, ovens, and drops the bread to the back so two loaves burn.

His mother smacks him upside the head and he wonders which way is up and which is down for a couple of seconds.

_Feed them to the pigs,_ she tells him, yelling, screaming. _No one worthwhile wants it._

No one. No one worthwhile.

He makes his way out to the rain and steps over across his yard to the girl underneath the tree. There isn't lightning, but it suddenly seems like out of the corner of his eye there is something light, or shining, or something, but he isn't sure what. But he still presses on, because he wants to, because he has to, because he is in love with the girl huddling underneath the tree and the rain is trying to wash her away.

He lays the bread down in her lap. She stares at it for a bit, almost as if frozen and disbelieving. Distantly, the boy named Peeta Mellark thinks that this isn't how it all happened.

The girl on the ground, the mutt named Katniss Everdeen suddenly looks up at him with a fire that stops the rain and all he can feel is the hate, hate, hatred she has for him when all he wanted was to make sure she didn't die. A bow and arrow suddenly appears in her hands and he isn't sure where it came from, but that barely matters because she has it pointing to his chest, to his heart (fitting, really), the string pulled back and taut.

He doesn't know how, but they are both naked underneath the tree. Not that he has time to look at her body. Not that he has the ability to. He's trying not to die.

She growls, actually growls, as she stares him down as if sizing him up. She is. She snarls out words. "I don't want your food." She pulls the string back tighter. "I want your heart. I want to pierce it with my arrow and claw it out of your skin. I want to devour it and taste it as it still beats it's last bloody beats. I want to watch the life leak from your eyes. I want you dead, Peeta Mellark. I want your heart."

"You have it," he responds – stupidly, foolishly – and a wolf smile invades her face.

"Yes, I do." And she lets the arrow go, four others trailing along behind it just to make sure he feels it all, the pain and the death because he deserves it, deserves it, what a worthless man.

His vision is hazy as he stares up and he can see Katniss over him now, can feel her clawing him. He sees her bloody and he realizes that it's his blood as she laughs in triumph.

"You will never win," the words swirl in his head as she comes closer to him and his eyesight goes hazy with in and out of black. She kisses him and he tastes his blood, and she bites his lip and there's more of his blood, always his blood, nothing ever from her. He thinks maybe he should scream out to someone, to anyone, maybe just voice his one last thought –– _I never was trying to win, win what? _–– but it's too late as it all goes black and Katniss Everdeen's eyes stare at him and laugh as he takes one more breath.


	2. all staged and red

They are in District Eleven in front of all the people when a whistle breaks through and a bullet sings in the air. He is confused and scared, and cannot make sense of anything.

He is a fool, a fool, and he turns all around himself to try and find where the gun is. He is on stage and there are peacekeepers but they are all standing still and the people in the crowd are as well. He turns once more and sees Katniss with blood all over her sundress. The dress is –– was –– white. The gun is in her hands, the whistling man dead in front of her.

She laughs and splashes more blood upon herself as another bullet goes into the crumbled up man.

"Stop!" He hears his voice ring out as he goes to step towards her. Katniss looks up at him, glares, and shoots the man again. The man should be dead, he is old and he is shot, shot three times now, but he still whimpers, still cries, still is choking on his own blood.

Peeta Mellark's blood seems to run cold because of it, how this man's dying sounds grate upon his veins, and he knows he can't save him.

"Katniss stop," he says, trying to make his voice strong, trying to take a step towards her. Her eyes are fire and flame and contain a rage because he is wrong, he is there, and he is trying to stop her.

"No," She tells him, and shoots the old man again.

He stops trying to walk over to her because instead his body fills with the old mans whimpers and how much he knows that the whistling man is in pain. He can almost feel this man's pain, feel how much it hurts to lie in your own blood as people just watch and observe. Because the crowd is still there, District Eleven, but they're wearing the clothes of the Capitol and they watch as the man dies, as Katniss Everdeen shoots him again, as Peeta Mellark can't figure out a damn thing to do.

But then Katniss is bored of the dying man and walks away, her boots clinging onto the blood –– or is the blood clinging to them? –– and she slowly makes her way towards Peeta Mellark. The gun is up and it's lined up with Peeta, aimed directly at his eye because he knows how good her aim is, how she always shoots her prey through the eyes.

And it's not a surprise because he knows it, he always knew it, he's her prey.

Her eyes are that of a hunter and beyond them he thinks probably, there are even more eyes upon him, upon them, from the audience; their eyes bright like stage lights but anything beyond Katniss Everdeen and her gun is shiny and he can't focus on it.

She smiles as the cold thing touches upon his skin, directed right in between his two eyes. "I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you're thinking, Peeta."

It's what he's thinking, it's what he knows, and she adds to it with a bigger smile. "Well, I _will _kill you. Just not today. Not with a gun."

She takes it off his head and directs it at his left hip and shoots. He cries out and bends over, and she shoots the kneecap as well. His eyesight is red and he thinks that's probably his blood, or maybe he's just hallucinating. From bloodloss maybe, or pain, or maybe just from the mutt in front of him herself. He thinks if he wasn't in so much pain maybe he'd be angry but he can't do anything but cry out as she presses a hand onto his bullet wound. He didn't even realize he laid down on his side until she's straddling him, one hand pressed upon his hip and her legs squeezing his together right at his other wound.

Maybe he'd think that she was trying to stop the bleeding with her hand against where the bullet was still stuck within him, but her eyes are narrowed as she stares at his face, as she lets her fingertips toy with the edge of his wound. She squeezes her legs and adds pressure to his other wound, she rocks her body against him, her core hot against his leg, and she moans. Peeta Mellark has tears in his eyes but he tries to stay silent as he watches this girl that used up all the love he had in his being, chewed it between her teeth, and spat it back. She grinds against him again, again, and he hates it, how good it feels amongst the blood. His body is confused, he is confused, and she grinds against him again, sweeping herself against his jeans.

"I don't know what's making me more wet, Mellark," She bites out in a pant. She presses the heel of her hand into his hip and he tries not to, but he does, he cries out. She rocks against him and he holds back a shudder at how it feels mixed with his blood. "The feeling of you between my legs or the look on your face as I touch you." And she touches him again, she touches his wounds because his pain is a pleasure and it's almost as good as stroking herself.

She trails a finger down his jaw, a line of his own blood upon him. "Pain is a good look on you, sweetheart. You should wear it more often." Her finger trails down his chest, down his arms, and he blacks out when she makes as if to grab at the bullet still wedged in him.


End file.
